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Dirtbag II: Ultionem
My little brother and my parents were recently murdered by mysterious killer. I haven't been taking it well at all, but the killer from what I heard is locked-up now. I have no idea who this killer is, and I don't know what their actual face looks like. He wears a raggedy cloth over his face and head, a red clad shirt with sleeves, and washed out jeans. He looks like a psychopath from the image I saw of him. He was arrested at my grandparents' residents, where my grandfather shot him in the shoulder. Dammit grandpa, you should have shot him in the heart! But whatever. I'm just glad this maniac has been brought to justice. Last I heard, he may be getting the death prenatally. If he does, I want front row seats. I want to see this psycho suffer. I've gone many sleepless nights now that all of my family is dead. It hurts me even more knowing it was a psychopathic murderer that killed them. It feels so unreal. I just wonder why that dirt bag did it. Why did he kill my mom, my dad, my brother, and then planned to kill my grandparents? Is this killer related to us? Is he family? Is he a friend? Or is he some random person? Unanswered questions like these make those sleepless nights even more painful. Right now, I'm setting up funeral plans for my now dead family. This is so unbelievably stressful and depressing. I have no but myself now. I live in this New York City apartment all alone, and I won't be able to talk to my family on the phone anymore. I really hope that piece of garbage suffers the worst way possible. As I was about to call a funeral arranger, my phone started ringing. It was the Connecticut Greenwich Police Department (CGPC). I answered the phone. CGPD: "Hello, is this Michael Willburg?" MW: "Yes, is there a problem...?" CGPD: "Well... uh, yes. Sort of. You see... the murderer that killed your family is--" MW: "Yes...?" CGPD: "Is-- Well, shit. He's outside the damn window. Hold on. *thump*" MW: "W-what the hell is going on?" CGPD: "Yes, he's outside the damn window! Come here. He's right...-- Oh shit. Get down!" MW: "..." CGPD: *GLASS SHATTER* "Aaaagh!" MW: "HELLO!?" CGPD: "..." *thud* CGPD: *breathing* MW: "Wh-who's there?" CGPD: "...boo." CGPD: *hangs up* What... the... hell... was that about. That wasn't what I thought it was, was it? No, no, no, it can't be. I... I don't know what to do. I have the phone in my hand still in shocked at what I just heard. Do I call back, or wait until I hear more on the news? Calling back sounds like a bad idea. What was that voice that said "boo"? Damn, this is freaky. I don't know if I can sleep tonight. I really don't know what to do. You know what, I'll just go to sleep. That will solve everything. Nah, but I need to rest my mind. I woke up at around 4:00 AM. The first thing I did was rush to my laptop, and to check the news by searching the CGPD's name. "Masked Psycho "Dirtbag" Escapes Authorizes And Is Now On The Loose" Son of a bitch, he escaped. What if he's coming after me? This is so stressful. Not only do I have to set up funeral plans for my now dead family, I also have to do it doing that the one responsible for their deaths is now on the loose. I actually hope that dirt bag comes for me. I want to confront this monster face to mask, and show him what I'm made of. Come on, "Dirtbag", I'm not scared of you! Hours later, I headed off to work. And I got to thinking... Greenwich CT isn't that far away from NYC. It only takes 50 minutes to drive from there to NYC. On foot, it would take 10 hours. Okay, now I'm scared. I have a feeling that "Dirbag", or whatever is name is, wants to kill all of the Willburg family. But what if he isn't coming after me, but instead... Shit! Grandpa! I quickly picked up my phone to call grandpa. Ring ring. No answer. Called again. At this point, I was getting worried, but he finally picked up. GP: "Hey, Mike, what's the matter." MW: "Hey, um... did you hear about Dirtbag escaping the authorizes recently?" GP: "Oh, of course I have! It's been the only thing people have been talking about here!" MW: "Well, just be safe grandpa. Have your rifle with you at all times. Because, like... what if he comes back? I don't want to lose another family member. GP: "Come on, Mike, you know me by now. I'm the most the most badass grandparent in the world! There's no way that 'Dirtbag' is going to get me! I don't think he could withstand another shot to the shoulder anyway." MW: "Haha. Well, if he does come by again, can you not shoot him in the shoulder this time?" GP: "Hehe, how about the balls? 'Local Dirt Bag Maniac Get's His Balls Shot Off'!" MW: "Haha, you're very funny grandpa. But I just wanted to call to let you know: be careful, because he's still out there." GP: "Yeah, Mike, the death of your parents and brother has effected me greatly. I think I might hunt the bastard down and confront him for myself." MW: "I don't know, Gramps, that doesn't sound like a good idea to me. He seems really dangerous." GP: "Mike, I'm the dangerous one. He should be scared of me!" MW: "Yeah, you shot him in the shoulder. You sure are the dangerous one." GP: "Ahhh, to hell with you." MW: "It's been nice talking, but I got to go. I'm working. Bye." *hangs up* The story will now switch to Grandpa's point of view, taking place a few hours after the call. I was sitting in my chair reading the local newspaper. The front page was that "Dirtbag" killer. He got away from the police, damaged the property, injured a police officer, and escaped to God knows where. Wherever the bastard is, I want him to come here. That's right sucker, come on over to ol' grandpa's house, and fight me like a man. This time, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the heart, killing you instantly. Well will ya look at the time, it's getting pretty late. Off to bed! I was sleeping like a baby, until I was awoken by a noise outside. I grabbed my rifle that was beside my bed, and went down stairs. In the living room, I noticed something strange about the noise. It was the harvester's engine sound. Who the hell turned it on? I stopped to listen more carefully. It sounded like it was getting close... really close. I looked to the front windows and there were the harvester headlights shinning in. Which was followed by the harvester busting through the windows, and into the windows. Dammit, wasn't fast enough. I panicked. I didn't no where to go for a few seconds, until I realized the upstairs would be a safe option. But it was too late, as the harvester was already in the living room, blocking the stair case. I ran into the kitchen, and the harvester noise stopped. The whole house was covered in fog, I could hardly see a damn thing. I stood there for about a minute, waiting for something to happen. I realized I left my rifle in the living room when Dirtbag walked into the kitchen with my rifle. Fuck me. *POW!* Local Farmer Who Was Responsible for Dirtbag's Imprisonment Falls Victim To Him; Killed In Home The story's perspective will now switch over to our protagonist, Michael Willburg. So... I just got the news. That piece of garbage, that waste of life, that dirt bag killed my grandfather; who was the only surviving member of my family. That psycho has a problem with this family, and I don't know why. But what I do know is that I'm next, and I'm ready for him. I went on the internet to see if there is anymore details on the story. But something interesting caught my eye. "Driver Says Dirtbag Stole Their Vehicle And Stabbed Them" That son of a bitch is driving down to NYC, isn't he? Well, just so he knows, I'm ready. On second thought, I don't have a gun. Err... maybe I'm not ready? I'll fix this soon. The next day, I met up with a well known drug dealer in the streets in the back allies of New York City. He normally doesn't hand out guns to people, but he understood my situation, and handed me a pistol and rifle. He said I could pay what I wanted, so I gave him a hundred bucks. What a nice guy. I headed back home with my two new killers, and packs of bullets. When I walked in the door to my apartment, and set my things down, my phone started ringing. The caller idea didn't display, but I answered. MW: "Hello...?" ???: "...boo." *hangs up* All right, to hell with this. That has to be him. I'm contacting the police pronto. I headed down the police station, and told them about the eerie call. They traced it back to the power-lines out in the country in between Connecticut and New York. Shit, he's getting close. I'm fully prepared now, so I have nothing to be afraid of. But how in the world did he get my phone number? I can't wait to confront this psychopath. It will be so satisfying bumping him full of led. You know... maybe I should track him down instead. How would I do that though? Hmm... The next day later. I was at my job working a bit later than I should. It's nearing 10:00 PM, but my boss told me to unload some extra crates, then lock up after I'm done. I got done unloading the last crate, and proceeded to take my gloves off ready to head home. Until I heard a noise come from the power-plant section of the building outside. I walked out the door. I scanned the area, and said "Hello...?" Of course, there was no answer. I went back inside, and grabbed the keys, until I heard the noise again, this time it sounded like it came from another room. I was starting to get paranoid. I walk down one of the hallways, and peaked my head through various rooms. After checking three rooms, I continued to walk down the hallway. But I saw something moving outside the glass door down the hallway. I got closer, and opened the door. Scanned the area, couldn't find nobody. I went back inside, walked up the hallway, and went back to the room with the keys. I picked up the keys once again, until I heard yet another noise. I started to think I was hearing things. But I wasn't imagining this one. I could've sworn I heard something moving in the air ducts. I stood frozen in place to see if I could hear anymore noises. I stood there silently for a good minute, until some sort of liquid hit my shoe. That's when I noticed I was standing next to an air duct vent. I jumped back yelling "WHO'S THERE!" The liquid that hit my shoe was red in color. Of course he comes for me when I don't have my guns, that dirty bastard. I searched around the room to see if I could use anything to defend myself with. Ah-ha! This medium sized sharp knife will do. I looked into the vent. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear breathing. "Okay bitch, eat some!" I yelled while running to the vent and slamming the knife into the his skin. After the strike, the vent cover popped off. Then out came the man in dirt himself... Dirtbag. I looked him straight in the bag. The knife hit the right side of his eye. He started carving it around his eye, then back down. He dropped the knife, and tore a piece of fabric off his mask bag off. It revealed his right eye. The pupil was dark black, and I couldn't see any skin on his face. It was just complete darkness. Chills ran down my body, and I slowly backed off. I didn't know what to do. I just stood there staring into his lifeless eye. I decided to slowly tip toe to the door... very slowly... then I ran for my life. I looked behind me as I was running, and didn't see him follow me. I was in the supply room. There were shelves, crates, and boxes everywhere. So many places to hide... but where? Fuck this, I need to call the police. Shit! I left my phone in the other room. What else can I mess up? That's when I heard the door to the room open. Well, he's in here now. I hid behind the last shelve near the endless amount of crates. I heard each and every footstep of his. There was a two second pause with each step he took. He was checking the shelve isles for me. Dammit, dammit, dammit! I'm going to die. What's on this on this shelve full of -- Hey! A power drill with a sharp end. Does it work though? Well... there's only one way to find out. I turned it on, and it was loud. Very loud. Well, it works, but I don't hear slow moving footsteps anymore. I hear running. Fuck me. I quickly got up, ready to confront the bastard, but he started tipping over the shelves, and created a domino effect. There goes my life. The shelve that I was standing next to fell on me. I was laying on the ground with the power drill no longer in my hand. Dirtbag took a step closer, and looked down at me. He reached his hand out and said: "Come with me." His voice sounded like Satan's asshole. It wasn't human-like at all. I picked up the power dill, and drilled it into his reached out hand. He jumped back, and his hand was squirting out blood. There was a big hole in his hand. He looked me down in the eyes, and slowly backed off. He started walking to the other side of the room. I couldn't escape, because I was being crushed by the shelve full of junk. I tried squeezing myself out, but no luck. I looked up and saw Dirtbag walking towards me with with a power buzzsaw in hand. SHIT! Before he could get any closer, I managed to escape the crushing of the shelve. I swung the power buzzsaw at me, but I moved out the way. Since the thing is extremely heavy, he hit the shelve on the floor, and sparks went everywhere. Again, since the thing is heavy, he probably wouldn't be able to keep up with me if I ran. So I took the risk and ran for the door. Before I got to the door, I felt a very sharp metal object dig into my back. I got stabbed. He touched my shoulder while still digging the knife into my back. Dirtbag: "I can't stand you." Mike: "W-w-agh-who are you?" He started twisting the knife slowly in my back. Dirtbag: "I've always wanted to fight you. I really can't stand nobody like you. You can't run or hide, Mike. Just close your eyes, and come with me." Mike: "W-w-where?" Dirtbag: "I'm going to take you forever with me like the rest of them. I can't fucking stand you." He took a pause, and whispered. ... "Come with me." He twisted the knife hard, and let go of me. I fell to the floor and started bleeding to death. I couldn't utter a word. Police sirens got close and closer. Dirtbag causally walked out the building. The police came in the room and analyzed my body. They put me on the mobile hospital bed, and sent me on my way to the hospital. Dirtbag... ...you will pay. Category:Dirtbag Saga Category:Killers/Murderers Category:Violence Category:Profanity Category:Blood/Gore Category:Deaths Category:Law Inforcement